Dear Daughter,

I don't know what you will be having for lunch when you get home after the church holiday club mornings at the end of August. I do promise you that I will always have food and you will always have something though.

I also don't know how many people you'll be able to invite to your Birthday Party, nor whether you will actually decide you want one. Your Birthday is not until March, could we leave thinking about it until after Christmas please?

We aren't going to France for the summer holidays. Please stop telling people we are.

"Britain is an island" is a difficult concept to grasp. I get that. And I realise I should probably have left the explanation at "Because the buggy is in a different country a long way away and will take a while to get here." No, the boat won't come sailing up our drive. It won't squash the cars because it will stop when it runs out of water. And the buggy will come off the boat and go onto the lorry. No, I don't know what colour lorry. And I don't know when. And it won't be tonight. And it won't be tomorrow. And yes, I know it's nearly the end of term and the man did say it would be here by the holidays, but it doesn't look likely now. I don't have the answers, sorry. No, the lorry won't squash our house. The buggy will come off the lorry and go in a smaller van. No, I don't know what colour. And no, it won't crash. Please stop fretting.

You cannot put cream on your right elbow using your right thumb and index finger. I'm not going to argue with you - try it and see but you won't succeed. Please either let me do it or take some with your left hand.

I haven't read you a story yet because you haven't stopped asking me questions long enough for me to ask you what you want to read. And now it's bedtime and I still haven't read you a story because I can't answer another one of your questions without my head exploding. Please go to sleep.

Goodnight, little girl, I love you, see you in the morning. But please, not until the morning. Argh!
Tia